


Humanity's Worst

by Dominura



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: ANOTHER GROSS FIC, Abduction, F/M, M/M, Multiple Endings, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Overdose, Rape/Non-con Elements, also An au where levi’s birthday is not on Christmas, also hanji but with mad strap game, but some shitty date like November 3rd cuz hes obv a Scorpio, choose your own porno, early 2000's, heads up ALMOST ALL THE ENDINGS ARE BAD ENDINGS NO ONE CAN BE HAPPY, retired club kid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-10 22:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11136231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dominura/pseuds/Dominura
Summary: You’re in a boring bar trying to celebrate your birthday, but your wingman abandoned you for someone cuter, shorter and more interesting. You reminisce to your drink about how things used to be better, more exciting, glamorous. Oh, how things have changed since the club kid scene crumbled beneath your feet. You’re more then prepared to get drunk alone, until you see a pair of green eyes looking at you from down the bar. What happens from there, is all up to you ((multiple endings!)).





	1. Happy fucking birthday, you sack of shit

**Author's Note:**

> At the end of each page there are two lettered options, under chapter index select the corresponding letter to continue. 
> 
> Feel free to read one or all the ending :) (I recommend reading any two from the first A & B branches to get an idea of the story.) Let me know what you think! if you like this check out some of my other stuff. GOOD LUCKK

Sitting in the club alone you begin to wonder exactly why you came here in the first place. You’ve known Hanji since you were both teenagers, she will always ditch you for a pretty girl or a pretty boy, not that you’re any better. But it’s your birthday and you just wanted to forget about how shitty and dull your life has become. But here you are, sipping your watery overpriced gin and tonic and remembering how shitty and dull your life is. 

Clubs today play such bland music, it seems like another lifetime ago that they played music that was actually danceable. But thinking about the way things felt when you actually went out and enjoyed yourself brings back mixed emotions. Extreme highs and extreme lows, but even still a part of you wishes you were that person again. 

Outrageous outfits, clown like makeup, always finding those annoying little specs of glitter, rinestones and feathers in your clothes and hair. Even though it’s been years, glitter still collects like dust in your apartment. You sigh, sure you were disaster, a dick, a freak and a borderline sociopathic monster but at least you weren’t tied down to a nine to five hemming pants and jackets in the back of a non-air-conditioned suit shop. You were alive back then, or at least then It felt that way, but you’ve got to grow up sometime and move out of your drug induced dream world.

“Levi,” Hanji stumbles over her own feet and lands on the floor, you half-ass bend over to help her, but she springs up as if it was nothing, at least someone is having a good time, “Me and little red hot red-head are going to go bar hopping for a bit, she’s a beer drinker, that lil’ thing, can you believe it?” the hair is falling out of her ponytail and she looks a mess when she waves flirtatious to a short girl with intense eyes at the door, “you want to come, babe?” she tries to entice you, “I think the first stop is a karaoke bar.” 

You give her a look, you’re mildly disappointed but not surprised, her sex drive has always been monstrous compare to yours she’ll always bed the first thing she sees, “Not really,” you take another sip of your drink. Had this been another night at not your birthday, you wouldn’t have cared less, but today was suppose to be different, “I think I’ll work on trying to suck my own cock in the meantime,” you say with a deadpan expression, “I’m almost there, you know, I think I need to do some more lunges and I won’t need you anymore.” 

“Sounds great,” she smiles absentmindedly, she heard nothing you said, she’s too busy making eyes at her new friend, you frown as she skips away arm in arm with the girl. Whatever, the night is still young and perhaps if you head to your usual stomping ground you’ll see someone you know but still, the drinks here are much cheaper. You might as well have another after this before you call a cab to head over. 

You stare into your glass for a while an ice cube melts in your mouth. You try to tell yourself that you’ve become normal for a good reason. You know that drugs, alcohol, and sweaty strangers in ridiculous outfits were never your friends but the chipping glittery black polish on your nails and the roofies in your cigarette case show you haven’t really changed much. 

When you look up two bright green eyes meet you across from across the bar. They shyly veer away like stage lights and focus on getting the bartenders attention. Since you’ve been here, you’ve had a slight feeling like someone has been watching you. When you look back at your drink his eyes rush to you again only to shoot back to the wall nervously when you look at him. He looks so uncomfortable, it's almost funny. 

 

**A. If he wants your attention, you’re going to give it to him. If he changes his mind, too bad.**

**B. He’s cute, but if he wants you, he had better come over here and order you a drink before your change your mind.**


	2. A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If he wants your attention, you’re going to give it to him. If he changes his mind, too bad.

You cross your legs arching your back seductively and stir your drink lightly. You beckon the bartender over, he stands at the waiting in front of you, “Could you tell green-eyes over there that if she’s going to keep staring at me, I’m going to have to charge her.” The bartender nods, he treats it like a normal request. He walks over and relays the information to your admirer. The tips of his ears flush red and he pulls his rocks glass into his hands. You could only imagine what he would look like if he had puppy ears. 

He speaks to his glass meekly when he says something to the bartender. The bartender comes back, “He wants to know what you’re drinking?” 

You stick your tongue in your cheek and looks at your admirer then to your glass, “I’m drinking a Heineken,” you shout down the bar over the music, “Why don’t you come and sit with me?” He must be able to hear you somehow because he comes over and sits beside you and orders you both a beer. 

“I don’t know you, do I?” You look him up and down, he’s probably got a nice body to match his face under all those clothes of his. His clothes are far too bland for you liking, he’s wearing khakis and a jean jacket buttoned up to the neck to a nightclub, who does that? Either he’s just off work, he’s boring or he’s straight. All of which are mildly disappointing. 

“We’ve met before once,” he curls his hands around the green glass bottle, when he looks at you, he can’t hold the eye contact for long before looking away bashfully, “but that was maybe five years ago at The Limelight.” 

“1995… Limelight,” You think about it, and look at him, he looks young. He couldn’t be any older than maybe 21, roughly the same age as you were in 95’. Limelight was always packed to the roof and walls, surely every night you went you met with hundreds of people. Everyone wanted to be your friend or lover for the night, after while you just couldn’t remember faces never mind names, unless of course, they were important. You keep trying to search his face in your mind but nothing comes up. It could also be that all of the people you knew back then wore so much makeup that you probably couldn’t have recognized them on the street now. ’95 is more or less a blur, anyway.

“I don’t remember you,” you shrug and drink, “sorry you had the honor of meeting me in ’95.” You take a friendly jab at yourself, but he looks disappointed, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to say that he looked heartbroken.

“Oh,” he utters, you begin to wonder what the hell you did back then, it could be anything but you honestly can’t remember. 

“Don’t take it too personally,” you’re honest with him, “I was a mess then, I don’t even remember where I was living back then, maybe with Hanji? But I guess I’m always living with her.” 

“Dr. Zoe?” His eyes widen, he looks star struck. 

Just hearing that name makes you almost choke on your drink, “I haven’t heard that name in a long time,” That was her nickname then, the nurse outfits, the fake blood-soaked bandages, the eye patches, the fact that she dealt heroin, the name fit her well. But like you, once that scene was gone so was that persona, for the most part, “Were you one of us?” You only ask to be polite, he seems far to ordinary and boring to have ever been relevant on the scene if you’re being honest. 

“I just moved to New York then,” he taps his nails on the glass, “there were always so many people, and no one really noticed me, but you did.” He looks at you from his brow, he’s blushing again. 

Shit, you must have slept with him. You laugh, only because you don’t know what else to do. Given he is cute, and you’d definitely sleep with him again if given such an opportunity. In fact, its not a bad idea since you haven’t had sex in a week. The idea overwhelms you, you suddenly make up your mind, he’s going to come back with you. 

“Well, then,” your laughter is unmet and dies out, “maybe I should be the one buying you a drink.” You’re sure that after a few more drinks (or more) he’ll loosen up a bit, calling him stiff and awkward right now would be an understatement. A guy like that is no fun for you unless he’s barely conscious and you have something just for that. 

“I don’t know,” he laughs nervously, as you order the two of you Jack and Coke, “just one, I don’t drink much.” 

“Good,” you say as you eagerly watch the drinks being made, “It’s bad for your health,” but you couldn’t care less about his health because soon as he heads to the bathroom you slip a tablet from your cigarette case into his drink. It quickly dissolves in the water, you give it a stir and look around. The bartender sees you do it out of the corner of his eye, you pause with fear, people get arrested for this sort of shit, but instead of calling the cops, he smirks, “That kid does need to loosen up,” he says to you throwing a rag over his shoulder, “You’re doing him a favor, if you ask me." Thank God.

“Right?” You hesitate agree with him, you take deep breath, that was a dumb move you just made but at least it looks like you’re going to get away with it this time. When he comes back, you push the drink towards you When he takes a sip, he tells you it’s a little bitter, but you assure him that yours is too. 

**C. This seems like a good time to dance  
D. You want to get him back to yours as soon as possible **


	3. B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s cute, but if he wants you, he had better come over here and order you a drink before your change your mind

You chuckle about it, and he blushes even more while repetitively folding his hands in his lap, he seems weird and awkward but in a cute way. He’s not exactly your type, his clothes are tacky and he has a baby face. But seeing that you’re depressed, bored and probably going to spend your entire birthday alone, perhaps his company wouldn’t be too terrible. But then again, you’re not desperate enough to approach him first. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” the older looking bartender eyes you up and down with a beer bottle in his hand, at least someone will talk to you, “since the scene dried up at least,” he takes a quick swig of his beer and puts it under the counter stealthy before praising you, “It’s been so boring around here, I used to work at The Limelight, you used to throw some damn good parties, let me tell you.” 

You nod in agreement, though you don’t remember this guy in the slightest, “Got that right.” He laughs, it seems like that’s the answer he was looking for. 

“What are your plans for the rest of the night?” he asks, “A guy like you, I’m sure you’ve got something planned.” He still thinks somewhat highly of you, how sad. 

You shrug, and lean back looking at that shy guy down the bar, “nothing or no one, it’s my birthday too you know.”

“Oh, well, Happy Birthday, Levi,” he pours you a shot of tequila and pours another one for himself. Another excuse for him to drink on the job you suppose. It seems you can’t get always with just blending in, everyone recognizes you no matter where you go, “How old does this make you?” 

“How rude to ask a lady her age,” you humor him, “but I’m 27 for your information, nearly a silver fox, you know,” you feel old just saying it, when you were in your teens and in your early twenties you never envisioned you would make it past 30 and here you are, just about there. How depressing. It’s the year 2000 after all, you’ve made it to the future after all that’s happened, maybe there is something in there to feel proud about. 

He lets out a low whistle and bugs you about it, all though his bald head and under eye wrinkles suggest he’s probably in his 40’s himself, “you should have told me, I would have given you the seniors discount.” 

“Funny,” you make a sour face but soon you can’t help but laugh at yourself and your situation. The two of you pause while the weird guy at the end of the bar scoots towards you, leaving a seat in-between you. 

“H-happy birthday,” he says sheepishly, he says to his drink rather than you. He brushes his brown overgrown hair out of his face exposing his round olive toned face. 

You prop your head up on your hands at the bar, he’s cuter up close, you’re glad that he came over, “thanks, but it’s rude to eavesdrop yunno,” you bug him, but his expression says that he took it literally you try to reassure him jokingly, “I’m just messing with you,” he seems so uncomfortable you wonder if it’s his first time in a gay bar, “What’s your name?” You ask him. 

“Eren,” he says as the bartender winks before walking away leaving the two of you alone. 

“You come here a lot?” you try to strike up a casual conversation with him with an ice cube in your cheek. Your bad for eating ice, and the ice here is crunchy and flaky, the best kind.

“Not really,” he rubs his arms and stretches, “I wanted to get out of the house for a bit, I just got off work.” 

“Ah, that explains the khakis and jean jacket, you must be hot wearing that thing done up to the neck like that,” you say that more or less trying to get him to take it off.

“I am pretty hot,” he says and then he laughs genuinely for the first time at himself, his laugh is endearing and warm, not so wild and hyena-like like yours, “my shirt is an ugly work shirt, so I’d rather just keep it on.” 

“Come’ on,” you grin eagerly at him, maybe it's some sort of uniform shirt and he’s embarrassed about it, “let me undo the first few buttons, live a little, Eren,” You hop on the stool next to him and release the top four silver buttons of the heavy jacket. The tips of his ears turn red when you decide to undo the rest of them, when you lean back to look at him, “much better-” you pause before burst out laughing at his shirt underneath. 

“I told you,” he clears his throat and pulls his jacket back over like a kimono, “it’s an ugly work shirt.” Ugly is right, it’s a black Insane Clown Posse Riddle Box shirt, which is terrible on its own, in both design and the fact that it’s a terrible band, “Why are there so many holes in it?” You poke your fingers through one of the massive gashes near his ribs, pressing his warm skin underneath, he flinches and you pull back “you don’t work with animals, do you?” you let your imagination run wild, “What is it, man-eating vipers? Wolverines? Sabretooth tigers?” Ripped shirts have been in style for some time, but this is a little excessive, it's almost like he’s been stabbed to death. Maybe it would look better if he had some dark ripped jeans and combat boots, but you doubt he owns anything like that. 

“Something like that,” he laughs and rubs his face. It seems like you’re embarrassing him again, this is becoming amusing.

“A man of mystery, I see,” you clink your fingers on the slide of your glass and grin at him, this place is finally starting to becoming a little less depressing now that you’ve started talking to someone, but still you’re no fan of this bar, “Say, you want to ditch this place and go somewhere else?” 

“Where?” he looks at you curiously, his ears are turning red again. 

“Another bar, Silly, this place is miserable as hell,” you nudge him, your display of eagerness to get drunk and have a good time must not be apparent enough, “Where’d did you think?”

“I don’t know,” you flustered him again, you could tell exactly what he was thinking, your place, fat chance, “But yeah, I’m down to go elsewhere,” he stands up and offers you a hand, what a gentleman. You take it and you swipe the opportunity to lean on him a little too much as if you were drunk. Since he gave you his hand, like hell you’re going to let go of it. You wave goodbye to the bartender before you pull Eren out of the club and into the bustling street. 

You inhale, once you’re outside. Ah, yes, though your nose enters the smell of New York. Old beer, warm piss, gunshot residue, rotting garbage and car exhaust. It smells terrible, but it also smells like freedom, “Come on,” you pull him down the street, he seems just as grateful as you to get out of that place. 

“I didn’t want to come off as creepy earlier or ruin your vibe, but,” he suddenly feels the urge to come clean about something, you walk a little slower and listen to him, “I’m, like, kind of a fan of yours from back in the day,” he says while trying to contain his joy, “That’s why I moved here from out west,” he speaks sincerely in a way that tugs at your heart strings while his hand tightens around yours, “this city feels more alive with you in it, even now, I’m glad I got you meet you again.” 

You look down at the ground and start blushing like a fool, how could someone say something so sweet yet so embarrassing. Maybe the reason you’re getting all sentimental over this is that it's been forever since anyone gave you a real compliment on anything other than what you were. You’re flattered more than you would like him to know, so much for him not being your type. You walk on the back of your heels, he's managed to make you tongue-tied, “hopefully you’re not too disappointed with how I am now.” 

“Not at all,” he smiles softly, “you’re much more relaxed, I like that too,” he scratches the back of his head with his free hand, “you threw a drink at me the only other time I met you.” You wish you could punch yourself in the face. 

“Some introduction, huh,” you had a habit of throwing various liquids at people, if someone could get it in a glass you’d throw it, “How about this?” you spin around and stop in front of him. You grab his other hand and lean closer to him, enough to smell the cologne on his neck, “Let’s forget about all of that, who and what we were, for now and let’s just get to know each other.” 

He beams like a child, “I’d like that.” 

“Good,” you stalk off walking again, “Oh by the way, we’re going to go meet my girlfriend.” 

He almost chokes on air, “you have a girlfriend? Is it ok that I’m coming?” 

“It’s perfectly fine,” you brush his jacket with your hand, “we’re not exclusive. I thought you were a fan, you should know Hanji, Dr. Zoe?” You don’t like using her old persona, but you know it will jog his memory 

“Oh,” he nods, he looks excited again, “I know her, I thought you guys were just friends.” 

You’ve known Hanji since you were a teenager, you went to the same school and lived in the same block. You’d always go over to her house to listen to music, do each other's makeup, make out, watch horror movies, talk about boys and girls you liked, gossip about everyone at school. Having her was like having a friend, but more. She’s the polar opposite of you in every way, yet somehow you fit together so well. Everything was going fine but by the time you had entered high school, your parents had divorced and your mother started getting new boyfriends to help pay the bills. Each one progressively hated you more and more until you got to the last one. It was a close-knit neighborhood in a small city where everyone knew everyone, I didn’t take him long you find out what you were like outside the house. 

He didn’t like it that you wore eyeliner, listened to Bowie and Prince, went to shady concerts, flirted with boys and drank. He was only vocal about it first, but soon he started to take his rage out on the house, then your mother and then you. She believed that he could change but her biggest fault was that she saw the good in people before she saw that bad. You begged and pleaded her to leave with you, but she was sick and with no insurance and not working it would be impossible for the two of you to lead a normal life without being dependent on a man. The night that he tried to force himself on you was the night that you left and didn’t look back. Love makes people do stupid things. 

You held a straight face until you got to the Zoe household where you broke down once you saw Hanji. When you said you wanted to get far away from here as you could she packed her bags without hesitation, leaving her own dreams behind for yours. You hitchhiked to New York City and where found honest work bussing tables and a flat with three other people. You did that for a year until you decided you wanted more. People in the city were different than the ones back home, they accepted anyone and everyone. Instead of just wearing eyeliner you wore lipstick and dyed your hair, you became a star, you hosted those shady concerts, you wore boys and girls like accessories on your arms and you drank from sunset until sunup. You were everything everyone told you that you couldn’t be, and everything you thought you wanted. But there was no way you could have been so successful had Hanji not been there to help you, but then again, there was also no way you could have been so self-destructive if she wasn’t wielding a hammer right along side you.

To answer his question as to if you two are friends, you said, “I guess that’s not wrong,” you laugh thinking about it, “we’re both runaways and we’ve been living together for years, plus we fuck and stuff.” You simplify it for it for him but he still seems confused. 

You spot her the second you walk into the bar that tall stature, olive skin and messy hair help her stick out like a sore thumb among the other female patrons. She’s sitting at a table littered with several empty pint glasses and a pile of spent cigarettes. She’s been trying to drop the habit but you imagine being in this ridiculously smoky place must test her. 

“Levi!” she shouts and waves rapidly at you, “and plus one,” she wiggles her eyebrows as you as you sit down, “I’m Hanji,” she reaches across the table and shakes Eren’s hand, he looks star struck, to say the least. 

“E-Eren,” he stutters, nearly forgetting his own name, as he continues to shake her hand for a little too long. Hopefully, he’s not a larger fan of her than you, that would be annoying since you want him to give you attention. 

“This is Levi,” she introduces you to a short, serious-eyed and red-headed girl, “And this is Petra,” she leans towards you and whispers, “she’s a marine biologist, isn’t that cool!” she shouts the last part and your ears ring.

“Very,” you nod, though you’re not too interested, Eren gets up to grab you some drinks, “Did you study in the city?” you ask her to try to make conversation as you light up a cigarette. 

“No, at University of Miami and then Harvard,” she answers straightly. You nearly choke on the smoke in your lungs when she said Harvard. She must be a true rich kid and intellectual, Hanji always seems to like those types. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel just a tad more intellectually inferior sitting next to her new friend. 

“Is that so,” you clear your throat trying to sound engaged. Eren puts a pint of something dark in front of you, you thank him and Hanji kicks you hard in the shins under the table. You nearly choke on your smoke again, what the fuck, that hurt like hell. 

“Are you ok?” Petra asks, your face must be twisted with pain. 

“Yeah,” you cough and your eyes water, she must have forgotten she was wearing steel-toed boots. It felt like she just kicked your whole leg off, you stagger to your feet, “I’m just going to go to the washroom.” 

“Me too,” Hanji eagerly stands up and walks with you. She wants to tell you something and that’s a hell of a way to get someone’s attention.

“What do you want, Shitty Glasses?” You frown, stopping in the empty hall and resting your back against the wall, with no ash tray you politely tap your ashes on the floor. She leans towards you, kissing you softly on the lips. She tastes like chap stick and beer, but you kiss her back, wrapping your arm around her soft hips. It feels good to touch her even when the hot ash from your cigarette crumbles onto your fingertips, “What do you want?” You say again, but softer. She looks lovingly at you and bites her lips.

“You taste like cigarettes,” she whines dreadfully and leans into you, she looks desperate, “I miss those little cancer sticks, how ’bout you give me a drag, babe, I’m dying over here.” She quits the habit every week it seems, she’s managed to have made it two so far, you were just starting to feel proud about it. 

You butt out the cigarette on the wall, leaving a charred black mark, she looks like she’s nearly about to drop to her knees. She didn’t need to kick you in the shins just for that, “You’re quitting, right? You got your taste, that’s all you wanted?” you grumble at her lack of self-control and impulsiveness. 

“Wait, wait,” she grabs your arm as you turn away, “It’s about Petra,” she twiddles her thumbs, “I didn’t tell her that you’re my boyfriend or nothin’, I will but I just got to find the right opportunity. I think it will freak her out if it comes out too soon. You know girls like her,” her mind wanders, “They’re small and sensitive.” 

You turn away from her and she grabs you again, “Please?” she pleads with you, she must really like this chick. You agree to it, but it's supposed to be a rule in your relationship that you need to tell protentional dates about your relationship status before things get too heavy. You don’t want anyone to feel bad if they find out later, however, you don’t always exactly stick to the rule yourself. There are times when you get to carried away and forget. 

When you get back to the table you quickly down your beer without chatting with anyone, you pull Eren away from them, they probably want to be left alone anyway. The karaoke mic has been vacant for a while, you’re determined to sing something, “do you sing something with me?” you ask him once you’ve taken up space on a couch near the stage. 

“I’m terrible, completely tone deaf,” Eren stiffens up, he looks horrified at the very idea, “I’m also terrified of singing.” 

“Oh, ok,” you drink a sip of his beer before getting up to look through the song book. They don’t have any good music here, just regular pop and rock stuff, about as basic as it gets. You’re disappointed, but out of protest you pick the cheesiest song you know and notify the DJ. He sort of looks you up and down with suspicion when you tell him you want to sing Falling in Love by Gloria Estefan, it’s then that you remember this is a straight bar. 

As the electronic beat starts up you grip the mic stand and look past the bright lights to the crowd. Surprisingly, there is a lot of people here standing around and chatting. Eren waves to you from the couch and you wave and smile lightly back. The song is cheesy, but familiar, you know it by heart since not long ago you used to hear every day on the radio. You feel comfortable and not nervous in the slightest, you take a deep breath and smile to yourself, you’ve always been one to belong in the spotlight. 

“Two of hearts,” you close your eyes and your voice is gently released from your chest, “lace and satin, something in the air. Feel like another crook that’s been captured by your stare. Uh-oh, uh-oh,” your fingers trace loosely up and down the mic stand as you sing the chorus. You’ve always been told that you have some great pipes since you began singing in church as a kid. It’s soft, smooth, androgynous and sexy, within its own right, unlike your speaking voice which comes off rough and harsh. Before you got pulled into the club kid scene a talent scout from California wanted you to work for him, the next Bowie, Michael or Prince, he called you. Of course, you shut him down, you had no interest in selling yourself out to a stranger. But he gave you a card, which you never called, it took you years to find out he was actually an owner of a famous record label. Perhaps if you had taken him up on his offer you could have been somebody real, not some drugged-out freak to everyone outside your club kid social circle.

You don’t even notice that a crowd has formed in front of the stage, murmurs from the crowd reach your ears, “Is that Humanity’s Worst?” “No way, Levi Ackerman, that guy is still kicking around?” “I thought he died like three times, isn’t he an addict?” “Damn, he’s good.” It seems your former fame still gets you noticed even in a place like this, surprising but no too surprising. 

You tune them out and focus beyond the crowd to Hanji and Petra, “jealous feelings, reappearing, such a wicked dare,” your words are dispersed into the transfixed crowd like flower petals. The two of them seem to be having a heated discussion based on their body language. Hanji always talks with her hands when her temper is flared and that exactly what is going on here. When you look at Eren, he’s completed absorbed into you and looking at you as if you were the only other person on earth, it tugs at your heart strings, “I’m so damn confused and I wonder, do you care?” you call to him and his eyes call back. 

Your eyelids become heavy as your hips to the music on their own, when you look back to Hanji, she’s alone with her face down on the table, “Release me from your spell. I don’t want this love ain’t fair. I’m falling in love again. Uh-oh, uh-oh.” When the song fades out everyone gives you a standing ovation, complete with hoots and yells of praise. Everyone seems to be clamoring to talk to you, but you quickly bow on the dimly lit stage and rush off to Hanji who looks utterly defeated. Eren stands behind you, silently holding back his admiration. 

“She didn’t take it to well?” You sit beside her and look at her profile shoved into the table top. She shakes her head back and forth, you pull her close to you, “sorry,” you apologize, in a way, this is your fault. It can be rough when you get turned down after really hitting it off with someone. 

“It’s fine,” she drinks from the lipstick coated beer glass Petra left on the table, “she thinks it's too weird. How does someone go from, ‘let’s go back to mine’ to ‘what the hell is wrong’ with you in a minute,” she exclaims out of frustration, “am I really that much of a pervert?” You understand how she feels. 

“Yes you are, and that makes two of us,” you take a friendly jab at yourselves and she lightens up, but only a bit. A flash from a camera somewhere in the crowd lingering around you makes you irritated, “do you want to head home?” you ask and she nods solemnly. When you look to Eren he looks depressed, knowing that you’re about to leave him, “You want to come to?” you ask him, “we don’t live far,” his face lights up like a Christmas tree and he nods. 

You’re all tipsy after so many drinks, “Hanji, can I ask you a weird question?” Eren says with his arm wrapped around you and her, he’s the perfect height to be in the middle of the two of you. Like a big warm bridge of sorts. 

“Go ahead,” she pats the top of his head as if he was a puppy. 

“I really liked your persona, from back in the day, but why ‘Dr. Zoe’?” he asks with genuine interest, it seems after a few drinks all his awkwardness had faded and he has become eager to know everything and anything. 

“Well,” she starts, you know this is a hard question for her, “my parents always wanted another doctor in the family. So,” she clicks her tongue, “I thought, what if I was a doctor? What would I be like? That’s what I based Dr. Zoe on. I’d probably become a lunatic doctor who cuts living people open just to see what’s inside, who does experiments on children, I’d spend all day eating Xanny-bars in the pharmacy and unplugging life support on people just for fun. I would be a straight up monster if I was forced into that,” she pauses, normally when she talks like that it freaks people out but Eren is enthralled, “If I’m being completely honest, I got so absorbed into Dr. Zoe that when I started dealing it just became part of the role, I wasn’t really myself anymore, but a character instead,” she puts on her best stern doctor voice to do an impression of her formor self, “Your parents don’t love you since your gay? Have a bump, it will make it better.” 

You interject when you’re suddenly reminded of the past, “You used to always say, drugs can fix anything, and since you sold drugs you could fix anything, remember that?” 

“Yeah, I do,” she laughs, “God, I never want to go back there. We were both such a mess, Levi and I, were so out of touch with reality. It's like, I didn’t even know drugs were illegal, that people worked jobs and went to school or even that I was a real person most days. It felt so fictional, just party,drug, have sex, drink, party, no sleeping,” she sighs bittersweetly, “but it was nice to hear you sing again today Levi, I feel like it’s been forever.” 

“Yeah,” Eren smiles at you, “I didn’t know you could sing so good. You never sang in the club, did you?” 

“I used to sing all the time,” you remind him, “When I was first coming up was when I did drag and Vogue shows, instead of playing a track I would actually sing, but I don’t think most people thought I was really singing so it was a waste of effort. I’m a lazy bitch, drag was too much work for me anyway. Three hours of makeup, and you can only suck exactly one dick or lick exactly one pussy until you’d look a mess anyway, besides drag was never really my thing,” he blushes as you continue, “the only reason I got the name, Miss Humanity’s Worst was because someone in the crowd asked me ‘What kind of queen are you, you’re the worst queen I’ve ever seen’ and I just scream ‘I’m humanity’s worst queen!’ and everyone went nuts over it. The name just stayed even after I stopped drag, not that I’m complaining” 

“Man,” Eren arms tightens around your shoulders, before you unlock the front door of your building, “I wish I was half as cool as you guys.” 

“Hey, you are pretty cool,” you take his jacket from him and throw it on your couch, “I wouldn’t have asked you to come back with us if I didn’t think you were the coolest and cutest guy in the room,” you flirt with him just enough so he wants more, “second to myself and third to Hanji of course, right, Babe?” You call to her but she’s in the washroom about to jump into the shower. 

“Right,” she yells back through the running water, “I’ll be out in a bit, I just feel super gross after dancing. I think someone spilled a beer on me.” 

“I bet she spilled beer on herself,” you grab Eren’s hand and pull him into your bedroom, “You want to see some of my old stuff? Since you’re a die-hard fan and all?” He nods with vigor, you get on the floor and pull out a box from under your bed packed with posters, you take the neat stack of the original posters, “These were all the parties I hosted.” He starts looking through them like a kid on Christmas day. They’re not that exciting to you anymore, but since you made them all out of gluing cut out pictures from coloured magazines and photos they all look new to him since all the poster copies were always in black and white since it was cheaper. He comments on each one, there is still some he’s never seen before but the look of excitement in his eye only makes him look more attractive. You dangle your feet off the bed and watch him pleasantly, you’re glad that such a small thing can bring him so much joy. 

“Stand up for a sec,” you ask him and he does so in an instantly. You pull on that torn up shirt of his until he’s close to you, “since you’re in my house,” you peel the shirt off over his head and discard it like an orange rind, “you’re not allowed to wear that shirt. It totally gives me the creeps.” You touch his abdomen, feeling the raised muscles in your fingertips and hum, “you look much better without it anyway.” You trace your fingers from his stomach and up to his soft jawline. You can feel that tension return to his body that he had when you first met, he nervously sucks in air as you bring your mouths together in the way that feels more natural. 

You envy him and his youth and you kiss him like you want to steal it, running your hands up his bare back, feeling his spine then up from his neck and through his hair. A moan escapes somewhere between your lips, you’re not sure it’s his or yours, but it doesn’t matter, “I really want you,” your hand runs down and grabs at him through his khakis there is another moan, this time it was definitely his. You can feel a shiver of pure electricity shoot up his spine like a crack of lightning. His rough lips press against yours and you can’t help but slip your tongue into his mouth. He pulls back suddenly and looks towards the open door, you turn his head back to you, but he’s gotten bothered about something, which is a shame since he’s such a good kisser. 

“What about Hanji?” he asks innocently, giving you the opportunity to suck on his neck. 

**G. The more the merrier?  
H. What about her? **


	4. C

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This seems like a good time to dance

A familiar song plays, you don’t know what its called but just hearing it you can hum the melody by heart, it sounds like a remix of a Michael Jackson and maybe a Prince song, you’re not sure. It’s as basic and as mainstream as it gets for pop songs but you can’t help but love it, “Come’on, dance with me,” with your drink in hand you pull him to the rapidly filling dance floor. It's almost midnight and the patrons are just starting to fill in. You never liked this bar much, this is where all the boring, old and depressing gays hang out. All the old guys and gals who work full-time and like to request classic rock, but every now and then they do play music that you can actually dance to. 

Once you get moving it’s hard to stop. It’s like your arms, legs, and hips move on their own and your hands find their way to the warm crevasses of his body. He’s about as bad a dancer as you would have thought, your own grandmother, God bless her soul, probably has better moves than him. But with a few drinks pulsing through your veins you don’t let that stop you. If he’s going to stand like a pole, you’re going to dance on him like that’s exactly what he is. You move his hands down to your hips and run your hands through his hair. Slowly he seems to be getting more into it little by little, the drugs must be working.

As you grind yourself against him, you’re remembered of the good ol’ days. Which feels like a lifetime ago, but in hindsight was only a few years ago. Everyone was so wild and so non-judgemental, you could literally suck and dick or eat a pussy on the dance floor and no one would care. Heck, they would even cheer you on. Now in days, just grinding like you’re doing could be enough to get kicked out of the club. Thankfully, the dance floor is filling up and no on notices or cares what you’re doing. 

“I don’t think I even asked for your name,” you shout over the music with your ass pressed up against his crotch, you grind your hips hard against him. It feels like he’s a little hard, but that’s to be expected and welcomed given that you’re dancing like a slut. 

“I’m Eren,” he passes you your drink and you swallow it in a single gulp. 

“Levi,” You turn to face him but you know he already knows that. You can feel someone rubbing up against you from behind. Another guy is trying to get with you, “Fuck off,” you kick him in the calf with all you got before grabbing Eren’s sweaty hand and pulling him off the dance floor. You’re back and the bar and ordering yourself another drink before you know it. You must not be able to drink like you used to because your vision is already going fuzzy and you can barely feel your own legs. 

“Yer’ really cute, yunno’ that, not’really my type buttttt I can work wit it’,” you slur as your fingers slide up his leg, his muscles tighten beneath his khakis, he’s still as nervous as ever. A vignette of darkness encases your vision, now only one thing is on your mind, “how big is yer’ cock?” you tease him with your voice, but he looks away too embarrassed to say anything, so you tease him with your hand, taking a fist of whatever is under his shorts and he shivers. Turns out he is hard after all, you laugh and let go of him. Getting a woody like a middle schooler at a Halloween dance, it's horribly funny. You can hardly contain your laughter, it erupts like fireworks from deep in your stomach, “Honestly,” you cackle like a hyena. You’re not sure who is more pathetic, him for being hard or you for getting so shit faced over a few drinks. 

Miss Humanity’s Worst, you think to yourself. Your laughter has yet to die out, if you continue like this you’re surely going to throw up or pass out, hopefully not both. You hear it again, Miss Humanity’s Worst, it passes through your ears like a familiar ghost. You don’t want to be called that, you’ve changed, or that’s at least what you’ve been telling yourself. 

“Shut up,” you say threateningly, to the toilet bowl, it's mocking you and you’ve had enough. You can’t keep your head up straight, and you can’t keep your dinner in your stomach. It was instant ramen and carrots, when you see them floating in the toilet you could have sworn that you actually chewed them before swallowing, but there they are mostly intact. You hear it again and again, that name, it won’t stop. It takes you a moment to notice that it's not your imagination, someone is saying it over and over again, and they’re on top of you. 

“Get off of me,” you yell, but your voice has long since dried up and comes out as only a groan. Your head hurts something wicked, but thankfully something soft is beneath your head. Your whole body aches when you start to come to, you can’t see anything in the darkness but it's quite, you must have made it home, but something doesn’t feel right. It’s damp and cold, there is an awful smell in the air like rotting food. 

“Sorry,” A voice echoes, whoever was on top of you removes themselves, with the pressure gone from your chest it's much easier to breathe, “I just wanted to make sure you were secure.” 

“Eren?” You question, it’s a wonder you could remember his name. You move a little and your body responds by shooting pain up your spine and cracking joints. Everything hurts, you must have been out for ages. 

“Yeah?” He responds quietly, you feel him join you on the bed, but you still can’t see anything. He rests on your bare chest, curling gently into your body and letting out a peaceful sigh. 

“Where am I?” you ask timidly, the last thing you remember clearly was dancing with him, after that everything else was a dizzying haze of colour and sound. You must have completely blacked out, you’re used to it, but that doesn’t make it any less scary. 

The rough pads of his fingers circle your chest, “I, uh,” he mutters, he still sounds a little unsure of himself, “brought you back to my place. I had to blindfold you, so you wouldn’t know where I live.” That explains why you can’t see, this is weird, getting this fucked up serves as a reminder as to why you shouldn’t drink at your age anymore.

“Why would I care where you live-“ your voice shorts out when he gropes you suddenly. It’s not that it hurts, but it’s unexpected. Maybe you did a little more than barf your guts out while you were out, you curse at yourself. 

“Because you tried to drug me,” his voice is harsh and not nearly as cautious as it was before, “you think that I really couldn’t taste it? I’m foolish, but I’m not that dumb,” his fingers dig into your nuts, that hurts. You try to move your arms and legs to swat him away but your limbs are tightly bound to one another, with what feels like duct tape. An ounce of panic sinks in, it's not kinky when it's not expected. The drink he passed you on the dance floor must have been the one with drugs in it, no wonder you’re completely fucked. 

“Let me go,” you order him, showing no fear, but his hand tightens around your genitals. With his head laying on your chest, he must be able to hear and feel your heart racing. You try to keep cool and not panic, he seems like a harmless kid. Sure he has you hogtied and naked but he won’t actually do anything, at least you hope. 

“You were always my favourite,” his grip loosens up and he strokes you, you can’t see a damn thing, so ever move he makes causes you to jump but still, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel good in a way, “when I first saw you on TV, you looked so cool and confident, I thought, ‘I want to be like him’, so I left my little one horse town to come here. When I saw you in person,” he sighs into your chest drunk off the past, “you looked so good and I wanted you so bad,” he chuckles darkly, “I broke into your apartment and stole some of your clothes,” he strokes you harder and you suck in a gasp of air, your response pleases him, “I was a little extreme, I know, but God, I just-” his breath is hot like steam on your chest when he strains, “had I known it would have been so easy to sleep with you, I wouldn’t have done that.” He laughs at himself, it appears he has no idea how crazy he sounds and that’s what scares you more than anything. 

Shivers shoot up your spine, you could recall someone creeping around your and Hanji’s apartment years ago, you didn’t see their face or what they took. You had always assumed it was one of your low-life junkie friends looking for something valuable, but you had nothing of the sort. Something is wrong with this guy, you’re going to have to be polite to him if you want to get out, “Well, sorry you disappoint you,” You say as you try to wriggle your hands out of the tape with little avail, “but I’m not like that anymore.” 

“But you are,” he whispers in a sing-song voice and drapes his free hand over your lips, “even though you might not know it, you’re still attracted to me. It’s been five years, but I think about how you made love to me in the back of the club every day.” 

“You’re delusional, kid,” your second of patients wears off as quickly as it came. He might be crazy in the head, but you’re hot in the head and this is pissing you off. 

“I’m not!” he slaps you across the face, you swear as you reel away from the stinging sensation. He knocked the mask off, now you look him face to face, his raised hand and blood hungry eyes make you flinch. He’s panting with pure anger, way to go, now you’ve done it, “Don’t call me that!” he shakes you like a doll, your brain rocks around it your head, the motion makes you feel sick to your stomach. He’s going to strike you again, when he stops and gets up to walk around the room to try to cool down. 

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust but when they do you can clearly see your surroundings. It looks like a spacious apartment, only the entire room is filled to the floor and ceiling with black garbage bags of personal belongings and rotting food. Stinking liquids pour out of some of the bags like puss to a wound and fester in goopy blackened puddles on the carpeted floor. He gets a bottle of water out of the fridge for himself and another one for you. He puts it in your hesitant hands, but give that he’s bound your arms from the shoulder to the wrist with what is probably an entire roll duct tape you wonder how to let yourself get into this mess. If only you went to the bar with Hanji or didn’t try to drug this lunatic everything would have been just fine. 

“I didn’t mean to hit you,” he rubs his forehead, his skin is flushed bright red and he’s sweating like a pig, “I just really want you to remember me.” 

“Ok,” you sigh, he’s clearly and unstable wreck, time to go back to being nice again,“why don’t you tell me what happened when I met you, maybe I’ll remember then. Hmm?”

“It was 95’ in Limelight,” he drinks some of the water, it seems he’s settling down a bit, “it was a Wednesday, I thought that it would be less busy there during the week but I was wrong, it was packed. I saw you with Dr. Zoe, and a few others, I had a few shots and went over to talk to you. I said that I was a fan and that I wanted your autograph, you laughed and threw your drink at me. It was a fishbowl, so it was all over my clothes and the floor. I kind of froze up because of shock, I really didn’t know what to expect, I thought I insulted you. You told me you’d give me an autograph if I licked the drink up off the floor, so I did and you loved it,” he runs his hands briskly through his damp hair, “I didn’t care as long as you paid attention to me.” 

You could remember it, but only just, “So,” he gets back on the bed with you again, “you got another fishbowl and went up on a dance platform, everyone looked at you, you were only wearing-“ 

“Duct tape,” you cut him off looking carefully at your bound wrists, he looks to you with gleeful surprise. That much you could remember, you couldn’t find anything to wear so instead you stole a few rolls from the grocery store and wrapped it all over an old shirt and shorts, you remember it after most of all because you were a dumb ass and stuck pieces of it to your skin and you whined like a bitch until Hanji ripped it all off for you. You should have stolen the cheap stuff, not the brand name maybe it wouldn’t have been so sticky, but on the plus side you got a free Brazilian out of all of that. 

“Yeah, that’s it and,” he continues with an elevated mood, “you pick up a microphone and demanded everyone’s attention,” now you remember. You were high out of your mind like most days, once you begin to recall to slip into the past, “Girls and girls,” you shouted over the music until they shut it off you for, “It appears I have a fan,” everyone cheers and hangs on your every word, they worship you and you love the attention like a bug loves a flame. The scene here is about topping what’s already been done, an endless arms race for whoever can be the most over the top and the most shocking, “and I think that she’ll do anything I say, won’t you, honey?” You touch his chin, his eyes are heavy and fixed on you, you can tell how much he wants you. He’ll do anything you say, all you have to do is ask. You pour the drink down your calf, it’s ice cold as it spills down your body and onto the platform at your feet. Shivers run up your spine. The crowd screams and the music starts up again to fit the mood. 

“You urged everyone to clap,” Eren’s voice drifts through your mind, “you whispered something to me, but everyone was shouting and clapping in unison, it was so deafening I couldn’t hear a thing, then you shout for me to clean it up, and I did, the crowd went nuts,” his twisted sense of admiration and affection cause him to blush, you remember him lapping at the platform, your shoes and eventually your legs, “for Humanity’s worst, I’d do anything. It was maybe an hour later that you pulled me off the dance floor where I was alone and brought me into a backroom. You put your fingers in me, and kissed me, and when the time came you made love to me,” he takes a deep breath, the past still feels like yesterday to him, “it hurt so bad, I was a virgin I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to think I was lame or trashy, but after a while it felt really good and I couldn’t stop screaming your name and begging for you to fuck me harder.” 

You huff, now you remember, but only vaguely, drugs and alcohol have that effect on one's memory. The phrase ‘making love’ couldn’t be any more inaccurate, you fucked him high and dry on a broken couch in some creepy room knowing that he wouldn’t resist it but still, you feel a tad bad treating him so poorly with his first cock, not that your first time was any better. This kid's clear desire masochistic abuse probably stems from your own sadistic tendencies, it's likely your fault that he’s like this - in some respect. He’s a total wreck living alone in a dilapidated basement flat and kidnapped the only person who’s showed him affection, no matter how twisted that affection was. 

“So,” you clear your throat and narrow your eyes at him, “What do you want from me then? If you’re going to rape me you better get on with it, I need to go to be at work for six.” 

“I-I’m not going to rape you,” you’ve flustered him. 

“Then why did you bind my arms and legs and jiggle my dick like an Atari stick?” you question him, “you must what something from me. Ask for it now, or let me go.”

“Tell me to do something,” his pupils eat up at the brilliant green ring around his eyes, “I’ll let you go after that, and you won’t hear from me again.” 

That’s a strange thing to ask, you raise your eyebrow, “Like what?” He’s a freak, he probably wants you to say something sexual or to at least tell him to kill himself. He’d probably do it too if you thought that it’s what you want. 

“Anything,” he puts his hands on you, you shake him off, he’s desperate. 

“Well,” you crack your neck and look around, you can see the door the hallway, perhaps if you had to do something that required him to leave you could make a break for it. “You could start by cleaning up this fucking pigsty pit you call home,” he looks down at the ground with flushed ears, “if it's in a bag, throw it out. I can’t believe I ever voluntarily put my cock in someone as filthy as this.” 

“Ok, I’ll clean up, but I need to go through the bags in case-“ 

“I don’t give a fuck,” you’re not going to make this easy for him, if he wanted orders he’s getting them, and you’re sure his landlord would thank you too,“ if it’s a bag throw it out, You’re disgusting for living in such a mess.” 

“Yes,” he nods. It looks like he’s going to do it after all. 

You’d cross your arms if he could, “And do it naked, at least make it a little exciting for me,” You’d cross your arms if he could. He obeys you without question, dropping his shorts, you smirk with slight satisfaction. You were right, he does have a nice body and a big dick after all but that’s no important right now, you need to make a break for it. You’re not sure if he’s the murderous type or not, but you don’t intend to wait and find out. 

You keep your eyes loosely on him while he hauls bag after bag up the stairs and out the back in his birthday suit, what a change of events. You wonder if anyone will see him, someone’s bound to scream or at least call the cops if they see a naked man throwing out dozens of garbage bags. Hopefully, this makes the nightly news. You sit back as comfortably as you could and watch him come back and return twice. Since this is a basement flat you guess he must have to go upstairs or even outside to drop the trash off, that’s probably why he is gone for several minutes at a time. 

When he leaves to go to for the third time you wait a moment to make sure he’s gone before bringing yourself to your feet. With duct tape wrapped around your legs like yarn on a knitting needle, it's going to be hard, but you’re going to give it a shot. As you waddle to the door like a penguin you realize that you’re still drunk and horribly dehydrated. Suddenly each step feels like a step out of your own mind as things become distorted around you.

“Honestly,” you grumble as you slip outside into the hall, you knew those drugs were strong but this is a little much at this point. 

Maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you, but as you look around you realize you’ve been here before. It looks like the basement of your own apartment building, but it can’t be. You blink and as you hear footsteps, you try to run off to hide but there is anywhere to hide. Your naked captor grabs you and you scream at the top of your lungs hoping someone would hear. He struggles to hold you still, while trying to silence you with his hand, “Shit,” he yelps as you bite him hard enough to draw blood. The metallic tasting liquid fills your pallet and runs down your face. He hits you back to try to make you come back to his control. The single blow is enough to knock you off your feet and fall unconscious to the ground. 

When you wake, you can feel hay beneath your head, it’s cold and damp. The wind rips through the thin and decaying barn walls like icy daggers that penetrate your skin, and when you move it feels impossible. Your legs won't respond at all, and neither will your voice. You try to push words out of your mouth, but your breathing passages are so dry only a parched gasp escapes your lips. There is music coming from somewhere in the vicinity, something old, from the club days and someone is whistling along. You try to get up, but you can’t. Your legs and arms refuse to move and when they do a searing pain shoots up your spine.

“You’re awake,” the voice says as if he was expecting the opposite, he comes over to you and knees on the ground beside you, “I’m sorry about this place,” his icy hand traces over your forehead, but you’re helpless to move, ”it’s just you screamed so loud I had to move you out of the city,” he laughs ominously, as he fills you in on details you cannot recall, something in his voice scares you to the core, “you kept trying to run away from me, right into traffic actually. Everyone was so nice and helped me get you back into the truck, so I took you straight here. It’s probably for the better,” he looks down at you with a sickyly sweet smile, you can tell this is where the road ends, “now you can’t go anywhere.” 

 

END


	5. D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You want to get him back to yours as soon as possible

“So, you clearly know me, but what’s your name?” you uncross your legs and lean over to watch him carefully as he downs his drink like you intended, “I don’t think you told me.” 

“Eren,” he clears his throat and twirls the ice around in the drink with the straw. You wonder if the pill really was that noticeable, you’ve taken them yourself and that’s never been the case. It could be that it was mixed incorrectly, hopefully, that’s not the case and you don’t end up with a cute dead boy on your hands. But still, you don’t care enough about his well being to notify him he might as well be drinking poison. 

You join him in playing with the straw, the atmosphere in this place is dull to the point where it’s actually starting to bring you down. You just really want to catch the next thing on wheels out of this joint and back home, “can I ask you a question?” he asks suddenly.

“Shoot,” you respond. 

“Are you still dating Dr. Zoe?” He asks timidly, “I saw you came with her,” you really wish he’d stop calling her that. He must have noticed the pair of you soon as you walked into the club since she was only with you for 20 minutes or so until she ran off with some little red haired thing. 

You brush your hair out of your eyes, he seems to like that, “I’ve always been still dating Hanji, since we dropped out of high school. We’re married you know,” his eyes instantly drop to your hands to look for a ring, there isn’t one in sight, “figuratively speaking, of course, but,” you lean in closer to him, “we both see other people when we feel like it, keeps things fresh. You don’t want to ditch this place, do you? This place makes me depressed.” 

“Oh,” he says in a perplexed tone, he’s blushing, it looks like you’ve embarrassed him again. He scratches the back of his head and nods, “I can drive us, my van is out back.” 

“No,” you blurt out suddenly, loud enough to turn a few heads at the bar. You full well know that those drugs are going to take effect any minute now, your hand makes its way to his thigh and you squeeze the muscles under his clothes, “I’ll call us a cab, you’ve been drinking.” 

“You’re probably right,” he blinks a few times, he’s starting to space out a bit, “My head feels a bit weird.” 

“You don’t feel weird anywhere else, do you?” you question him, you didn’t mean to sound as if you were hitting on him, but it comes across that way, his muscles tighten. He’s still so nervous as he downs the rest of his drink before heading to the washroom again, when he comes back you decide that it's about time for the two of you get some fresh air. 

You light up a cigarette and he starts giggling, “what are you going on about?” you ask him, he’s cute and kind of creepy at the same time when he laughs like this. 

“I didn’t think that I’d ever get the courage to talk to you,” he stumbles backward over his own feet, “I thought you’d be different.” You make a face at him as you step back from the curb to shoulder him as a bright yellow cab pulls up. You help him in getting into the cab, he’s high as hell but he seems a hell of a lot livelier and less nervous. 

“Is that a bad thing?” you say once you’re in route. 

“No,” he looks in awe out the window and at the street lights and cars passing by, when he turns back to you with that same wondrous expression your heart skips a beat, “you’re really cool, you were so crazy before, and vulgar. Oh, Oh,” he jumps around in his seat like a kid at Christmas, “can you show me all your stuff? From back in the day-day?” 

You put your hands on him to settle him, his skin is hot and dewy to the touch, “I’ll show you anything you want,” you sing to him, he seems to like the idea of that. Maybe it’s just the booze, but your body is buzzing with energy and you’re becoming impulsive again. You disgard your cigarette through the open window. His eyes flutter shut and you lean in and put your mouths together. 

For a second he’s surprised but then he melts into your lips, you can tell that he’s wanted this for a while but even so, he inexperienced and doesn’t exactly know what to do or how to react. His hands reach up and run through your hair and your hand snakes to the bulge in his khakis. He’s a little bit hard, but that doesn’t come to a shock, the drugs have that sort of effect on some guys. 

“The driver,” he whispers and looks towards the rear-view mirror, the driver’s eyes dart away, he seems a little too interested in what’s going on in the back seat. You don’t care, more or less half the city as seen you with your shorts down and dick in the wind anyway, what’s one more? You push him into the door, gently spreading his legs to make room for yourself to get closer. You bite his neck, and fist his clothes, he writhes under you. He’s so lost in ecstasy and flustered, and it turns you on horribly. 

The cab grinds to a halt in front of your apartment. You pay for it and pull him into the elevator, then the hall and then your apartment with your mouth. You realized you hadn’t really considered if Hanji and her new friend would be home or not, but it probably wouldn’t have mattered much anyway. You pull off his clothes then yours. His cock is already dripping by the time you get him bent over the living room sofa arm. He makes slutty sounds when you fuck him, screaming your name loud enough for everyone in the building to hear, “Harder, harder,” he whines, he’s already come once, it's likely he’ll come again, “please, Levi, I want it!” He’s eager to please you, but quickly he begins to tire out and his mewls of pleasure become less and less until there is nothing. No movement, no sound. Except for your restrained moans and sound of your hips hitting his ass, the room goes silent. 

His entire body goes lifeless with your dick still inside, “It’s that good, huh?” you say still fucking him with everything you got, his body absorbs your thrusts. It seems to have knocked him out cold, it’s like fucking a fresh corpse. You grip onto his hips hard enough to leave bruises on his tanned skin, it feels so God damn good you can’t stop until you rip off the condom and shoot down his back. You try to catch your breath before you even think about evaluating the situation. Everything went south quicker than expected, even for you. You try to catch your breath as you stare completely mortified at what you’ve done.

“Eren?” you nudge him between breaths, he doesn’t move or say anything, but you can feel a pulse when you press your fingers into his love bite-coated neck. Perhaps you’ve overdone it, “shit,” you curse at yourself. He’ll probably be fine, you try to convince yourself as you tug at your hair like a mad man. He probably just needs to throw it up or drink some water at least. Then he’ll be back to normal. You rush over to the kitchen and pour two glasses of water. When you come back it appears he’s come to, well at least enough to throw up all over your couch.

**E. Get him out of here  
F. Take him to the bathroom ******


	6. E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get him out of here

“Shit,” you swear again, as you get the communal puke bucket you keep under the sink just for this occasion, “shit,” you’re beginning to sound like a broken record as you curse over and over again. He holds the bucket and empties the sour contents of his stomach. He looks like shit, he can hardly keep his head up or his both eyes open, you pass him the water, he drinks it before he slumps back into unconsciousness. You over did it, by a long shot. Congrats on being a fucking asshole again, Levi, you fucking prick, you murmur to yourself as you try to gather his clothes that are scattered on the floor. He did say that he drove here, there must be a wallet with a card with an address somewhere. You rifle through his clothes until you find his wallet in his jacket pocket. 

It’s a nice wallet, surely better than anything you own and there is a hell of a lot of cash in here. Four hundred in cash, you wonder what he was planning to do with all that coin. Hookers? Drugs? It doesn’t matter now. The quicker he’s gone the better. With his driver’s license in hand, you stare at it in horror. It can’t be, that’s impossible. 

His apartment building is the same address as yours, only different suite. “You have got to be shitting me,” you say as you look at his front door keys which are also identical to yours. You don’t have much choice, so you get a cloth and wipe his puke and your semen off of him before attempting to get his clothes back on. His heavy body is uncooperative but you manage to get him into the empty elevator and pray you don’t run into anyone. 

You drag him like a newly murdered corpse into the flat. The smell of the place hits you before the look of it does, the putrid smell of rotting food and vermin. Leaking garbage bags and broken furniture piled up to the blacked windows as if it was a pyre to be burned. The whole living room and kitchen seem to be like this. You spot the door to the bedroom and drag him across the stained carpet and open the door. The bedroom is clean and completely spotless. But what irks you more is the posters on the wall. 

He has event posters of every single event you did at Limelight and countless Polaroid photos of you and the club plastered on every square inch of the wall. It’s a twisted collage of everything to do with you, shivers shoot up your spine like rats. A polaroid on the frame of the door catches your eye and you lean in to view it. It's you and Hanji sitting on Mikes lap in Limelight. The two of you are both kissing him while holding drinks in your free hand. Hanji is wearing her neon pink nurse costume and you’re wearing something entirely made of duct tape. The makeup on the three of you is ridiculous, but you envy your own youth and gorgeous skin. 

You look at Eren, fast asleep on the bed, his resting face jolts you. It’s then that you remember what happened that night back in 95’. You fucked him in the back of the club that night, what lead up to that, you don’t remember. It was after when people started to go home around five that you could recall what happened. He wouldn’t let go of you after you banged him, like a puppy he kept trailing after you, taking pictures of you, holding on to you like a lost child. He begged and begged for your number, so you gave him the number your favourite late night pizza joint so he would leave you alone but he didn’t. 

He wanted to come back with you, and Hanji wasn’t thrilled about that, she wanted you to herself that night. He was so pathetically full of sheer admiration for you that he held you in Godlike status in his mind, even after you left the club he kept following you. You lead him into a back alley and wait around the corner until he appears. You pushed him against the old loading dock to a building while Hanji kicks at moss with her shoes. 

“What do you want?” You fist his shirt and threaten to punch him, “I told you, I’m tired of looking at your ugly mug every time I turn around you’re killing my vibe, ass wad.” 

“Please, please,” he begs, you notice that he’s hard, how pathetic, “I need to see you again, I’ll do anything, please. I’ll kill myself if you go on ignoring me.” How Shakespearian of him. You’re starting to get the feeling that he’s the real deal after all, he will do it and probably write a big note to further confess his love. 

“Anything?” You question and he nods rapidly, you’re not going to make this easy for him. After all, you are Humanity’s Worst, “Kill someone for me. Prove to me that you really worship me and I’ll get you off how ever you like.” 

“Who?” he wants to fulfill your every need, and it’s driving you wild with power and lust, “I’ll do it, I swear, I’m loyal. Anyone! You name it,” He shouts desperately as you trace your hand from his chest to his neck, it's covered in love bites and smears of your black lipstick, he hasn’t done enough to earn another real kiss from you. You grab his jaw and make those big watery puppy eyes focus on you. 

“Kill the next person you see wearing a band shirt,” you say and Hanji bursts out laughing at your ridiculous request, “it has to be a shitty bad though, think mainstream rock or country,” you let go of him and his legs buckle and falls to the ground, “do it and I’ll let you come in my ass.” You’re joking, but only half. You want to him do it, but you’re pretty sure he won’t. You kick dust up on him, “Walk around all night if you have to, I want it done tonight,” you heels click on the dirty pavement as you and Hanji disappear into the night with linked arms. You really haven’t given any of this another thought until now, is it possible that he could have actually done it. 

You spot something folded neatly on the cabinet. It's something black with bold red and white. It stands out because it’s the only thing sitting on top of furniture other than his alarm clock and lamp. It must be precious to him, whatever it is, seeing that it's on display. Your hands curl and your body tenses as you walk towards it. You know what it is before you even pick it up, but you need to know for sure. 

You pick it up and hold it in your hands. Your hands quiver slightly as you hold the top corners and release the rest of the fabric. It’s an Alive - Pearl Jam Shirt, with red text and the white stick man. Parts of it are plastered stiff with old dried and flaking blood. Long knife gashes in the back and front are still lined with bits of shriven clinging flesh. Just by holding it you can feel the pain the victim suffered, punctures, stabs and shallow slices echo through your body. He did it, he really did it, he likely killed a man because you asked him to as part of some sick joke to test his allegiance. No wonder he has it sitting up here like a fucking trophy, it is all for you, all of this. You hastily put it back where you found it, you don’t know what he’ll do to you if he wakes up, but you don’t intend to find out. 

Somehow your apartment feels less safe knowing that 10 floors below there is a murderous fanboy sleeping softly in his bed. You don’t know what to make of all of this, it's too much to process at this time. You put all the chains and locks on the doors and get down on the floor to clean up the vomit to the best of your abilities. Back then you would have been ecstatic knowing that someone killed for you, but now it just feels like a nightmare you can’t wake from. 

END


	7. F

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take him to the bathroom

“Goddamn it,” you frown when you see the growing pile of vomit dripping from the couch to the floor, “Come’ on,” you try to get him to his feet, at least he’s awake enough for that. You really messed up this time, how did you go from sitting at the head of the table at lavish parties to date-raping anyone who showed you the smallest drop of affection?

“I think I can walk on my own,” he gurgles, he hobbles off to the washroom, you don’t think he’s in any condition to do so but you also don’t stop him. At least he’s not dead, that must have been some potent stuff to cause him to black out mid-fuck like that. You only start to try to clean the couch when you hear a clatter, a horrible bang and porcelain hitting the floor from the washroom followed by the sound of the tap running on full blast. You jump and shivers shoot up your spine. 

You instinctively leap to your feet, and your heart beats out of your chest. Nothing about that sounds good, your feet stop unwillingly a metre from the door, you can’t take another step forward, “Are you ok?” you shout over the running water. Silence. You bite your nails, he probably just fell over or something. He was completely trashed after all. Perhaps a few minutes on the cold floor will be enough to sober him up. You slowly step backwards into the living room and get your clothes back on, you’re not going to be able to help anyone with your dick blowing in the wind. 

Ten minutes’ passes by anxiously, like an approaching storm. You don’t want to have to go in there and harass him yet again, but a pool of water from in the room is crawling out from under the door like a shadow. He must be laying flat on the drain that’s in the middle of the room for that to happen, “Eren?” you force your body to take steps closer to the door despite the fear you feel tearing at your gut. 

The puddle grows larger as the tap inside hisses with hot water, with your hand almost on the door knob it touches your toes, you begin to shake uncontrollably. The water is piping hot on your feet, and the steam escapes through the gap in the door and the frame and lingers like a cloud in your hallway. You can’t just leave him in here, you’ve got to go in. You take a deep breath, but as you look down at again the growing pool is painted with swirls of crimson red. You’re helpless to move as it overtakes your feet, basking them in scalding hot rouge.

Fear of the unknown and immense guilt paralyze you. None of this would have happened if you weren’t so fucking selfish. You said that you wanted to be a different person, no more Humanity’s Worst. No more sleeping with whatever fell into your lap, no more drugs, no more partying and no more selfish decisions. You need to call an ambulance now, it’s the only sane course of action, whatever happened to him it’s beyond you. You use both of your hands to grasp the knob, you’re shaking so hard the entire door is rattling as if a draft is after it. You’re going to have to go in there whether you like it or not. 

The door opens and creaks as it falls back before it hits him on the floor. The steam rushes out of the room and fills the hall with sauna like warmth and the unmistakable smell of blood. Your eyes trace from his feet to his unnaturally bent legs like broken stalks of corn, to his back and then his head which lays on top of a blood-soaked piece of your clawfoot tub. You shut the water off and swallow hard before you get down on your knees move his still body just enough so the water can drain. 

As the bloody water dances noisily into the dark drain you press your fingers into his neck. You feel nothing. You close your eyes and press harder praying that you feel a pulse, but your fingers sense nothing. You decide you should look at the wound, or try to feel for his breath. Grabbing him by the shoulder you attempt to turn him over, he’s heavy and it takes all your strength. You see his face, but only for a moment. His once wide green eyes are partially shrouded beneath his wet hair that clings to his face and his resting eyelids with long dark lashes. From his for head, a spike of porcelain protrudes from his forehead like a ghastly horn. You shriek and drop him, letting his body and the spike clamor to the ground. His open lifeless eyes judge you for everything you’re worth, which is nothing. You’ve killed him. You pound your fists into your head until you feel dizzy, how could you do this? You wallow in your own selfish grief with blood stained clothes and hands, cursing yourself over and over again. Killing someone so innocent and harmless, you deserve to die.

You can’t stand to be here anymore. Being sober, in the body of a murder and alone is more than you can bear. You quickly stagger to your feet nearly tripping over your own legs as you run out of the room and to the bedroom. Hanji keeps the drugs she deals and wads cash in a small safe in a false bottom of the wardrobe. You know the combination and don’t hesitate for a second. You’ve been clean for a few years and proudly so, but when your eyes settle upon the lone baggy of heroin, it calls to you and soon everything melts into a hot and blurry dream. 

“Why did you have to be like this? Why did you have to like me?” you nudge his body with tears running down your face and a needle dangling out of your arm, “You’re so stupid!” You scream at him desperately as if he could still wake, you shake him ceaselessly, his body flops limply from side to side like a rag doll, “You know what I’m like, and you still trusted me? You left me with your drink alone, you should have known, you stupid, stupid boy.” He just wanted your admiration but he got killed instead, you keep yelling and cursing at him until you can’t form sentences and then thoughts all you can do is cry as your brain becomes too overloaded to think. 

You curl up to him and sob into his neck, he’s still warm. Your mind wanders into make-believe territory as you wonder what he was like. He seemed awkward but in a kind of cute way. Maybe you’re imagining it, but he has a slight accent when he talked, not like a New Yorker but something else, Midwest maybe? A country boy? It's endearing in a way to think that might be the case. He seems so innocent and likable but also fake, boys and girls would have eaten him alive if he had walked into your club back in the day that’s for sure. Kids like him never lasted long, they would get sucked into the dark underbelly of the club just to try to fit in. You all were so hypocritical to call your spaces a place for weirdos and loners who never fit in when you were so pretentious and cliquey from the start. 

“I’m home-“ It’s Hanji’s voice, it enters your mind like a whisper then erupts into a roar, “you barfed on the couch?” you kick the bathroom door shut, you must have blacked out. You’re still next to Erens body, only its icy cold, ghostly pale and rock solid. You had wrapped his arms around yours sometime during the night and pressed up against him, he has since turned to stone as rigamortis had set in and his deathly embrace refuses to let you free. 

“Yeah,” you voice is shaky, as you reach with all you’ve got to turn the lock, “you’re back early.” You’re not wearing any clothes, you could have sworn you got dressed before you came into here.

“It’s two in the afternoon, Levi,” you can hear her running water in the kitchen and getting cleaning products from under the counter, she sounds pissed off, “don’t tell me your dumb ass spent all night in there.” 

You laugh nervously as you try to free your arm from his iron grasp. You didn’t manage to sleep off all the high and the dope from last night is still present in your body. Your head is swimming underwater, and getting a straight look of Erens marbling shoulders and back covered in your bites makes you throw up what little contents you have in your stomach. 

“You must have gone really hard, I’m sorry I missed it, I never get to see you get shit-faced anymore,” she laughs from the living room, “Did you meet anyone?” 

“I did,” you don’t know why you’re dragging this out, the anxiety of keeping this hopeless situation a secret is only making you feel more ill, “Eren.” 

She oohs, “boy or girl?” 

You flush the toilet and your stomach threatens to turn again, “yeah,” you finally tear your arm away from him, your numb blue fingertips fill with blood and a searing prickling pain as a sign that you’re somehow still alive even if you don’t deserve to be.

“You sure you’re ok it there?” she stands outside the door, you can see the shadow being cast by her legs and feet. 

“I’m fine,” you wipe your mouth with your hand, the growing smell of the body and your puke and sweat makes the place reek. You kick the needle under the bathtub. 

“Then open,” she rattles the locked door knob, “I need to take a shower, Petra kicked me out first thing in the morning when I told her I had a boyfriend, apparently, I’m not gay enough-” 

“Give me a sec alright,” you try to calm yourself but it's pointless, she’s going to find out what you’ve done. It’s an unavoidable fact, there is no way out of this. You begin to cry out of self-pity, shame, and remorse. 

“I never said I was gay in the first place,” she rambles as she walks into the bedroom, almost instantly you can hear her spin back on her heels and come rushing hot with rage back to the door, she bangs on the door so hard it feels like your brain is rattling in your skull, to “Don’t you fucking tell me you’re high in there!” you must have left the drugs out on the floor, she knows what you took and she’s going to murder you for it, “I’m going to fucking kill you, you junkie low-life bag of shit! You’re fucking better than this, Jesus fuck, Levi, I thought you were done with this shit! Open the God damn door!” she continues to bang on the door. 

Suddenly, you’re back to being a little kid again. Scared and afraid you lock yourself in the closet for good reason. The boxes of old clothes and stinking miss matched shoes shield you from your mom’s boy friend’s rage like a fifty-meter stone wall that could protect you from anything, so you thought. She would protect you if she could, as would you, but she’s too weak and you’re too young. You start crying again, like a child, as you give in and open the door to accept whatever will come for you cannot evade the inevitable. You did something wrong, and you had better own up to it. Hanji only needs to see the situation for a second before she reaches down and pulls you out of the room and wraps you in her arms. 

Hanji doesn’t ask any questions when you tell her what happened and offers to help you, she is good at making things go away. Sheer desperation to get rid of the body makes it easier to stomach. You’re not left with any other alternatives, going to the police would only bring you and Hanji under fire. As you cut apart and divide the body, you’re shocked to see the total amount of goopy yellow fat that encases every organ. It’s hard to contain. You put pieces in bags and triple bag them before throwing the bags into a dumpster outside a diner near your apartment. You burn his wallet and belongings in the incinerator in the basement of your apartment without looking at them, you’ve only been down here a few times and you’re surprised to see there are so many apartments down here even in such a dark roach filled place. You wonder how the people down here cope, to live down here would be beyond torturous for you. 

Once it’s all said and done, you silently agree never to speak of it again. You think maybe things could go back to the way they were but you can sense Hanji becoming distant. She becomes weird about you touching her, smokes far too much and smiles far too infrequently. She’s become scared of you, she wonders if she’s next. It takes a while but the stress and guilt catch up to you eventually, and you start using again so you don’t have to think about what you’ve done. This time she doesn’t scream and cry for you to stop, she just leaves and doesn’t return. Even she has limits on what she can deal with. 

It seems you were successful in the disposal of the body, but it doesn’t feel that way. Every police siren that passes in ear shot of you inches you closer to the edge. You’ve cleaned the entire apartment hundreds of time with bleach to remove any evidence. But no matter how many times you wash your hands and shower you can never wash away the guilt and filth that clings to your skin. 

END


	8. G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more the merrier?

“She had a rough night, I’m sure she would love to get in on this,” You purr into his neck like a gentle predator, you always get extra turned on when you think about Hanji getting involved, she loves watching you fuck other people and you feel the same way about her, “do you like girls too?” you hope he says yes. 

You feel his Adam’s apple drop in his neck as he nods, “I don’t have much experience with girls, they always think I’m weird, but I like them. I’m not into guys, just you,” You like the sounds of that, he goes to kiss you again. He seems to be under the impression that he’s the one in control here, you sink your top teeth into his lip and your hand into his crotch and he lets out a low moan. Your body aches and burns for him, so much so that you feel as though you’ll die if you can’t have him tonight. 

“Do you want to fuck me?” You ask him with your voice and then with your legs when you wrap them around his study back and pull him on top of you, it’s more like a bold order than a suggestion, “I really want you in me,” you purr into his ear. You’re not sure if it's because he wants this so bad or because he’s not experienced, but you can feel him shaking ever so slightly, like a leaf in autumn or like one of those butt-ugly but cute little rat-faced dogs people walk in central park. 

“I-I,” he stutters, despite the desire in his eyes, he looks at your chest rather than at you, you’ve managed to make him nervous and embarrass him again. You stroke up and down his arms slowly to try and calm him until he collects his words, “I’ve never done this,” he comes clean with defeat, “I’ve only been on the other end of things, if you know what I mean, ugh,” he groans despairingly, “I don’t think know how to- God, I’m sorry about this,” he covers his reddening face with his hands. You’ve never seen anyone flustered so much in your life, is terribly cute. 

Knowing that he can’t see you, you grin and then chuckle, he lightly shoves at you to stop. How precious. You place a delicate chaste kiss on his lips. You don’t mind that he’s not an expert, it doesn’t make you want him any less, but you do suddenly feel a tad bad knowing that you just asked someone so virginal if they wanted a threesome, “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I don’t mind,” you tilt his chin back up and reply softly to his wet eyes, “I’ll teach you, it will be an educative experience for us both,” you say with a cheeky grin. 

“An educative experience? Sounds fun,” Hanji walks in unknowingly without her glasses, it takes her a moment to realize what’s going on, you’ve caught her by surprise, “Oh,” her eyes widen, “OH, my bad,” she apologizes but still rushes to the dresser, “I just want to get some clean clothes, carry on, don’t mind me.” 

“Hanji,” you call to her, she can tell by the seductive tone of your voice what you want before you say it, “You’re not in a rush are you?” With her clothes in hand, she walks towards you. 

“Not really,” she looks carefully at you, she must be able to tell what you want of her. It’s her dark wavy freshly washed hair, long neck, broad shoulders paired with breasts nearly falling out of her shirt and her expressionless glassesless face reminds you again that she is, in fact, incredibly attractive. If you were alone, you would have had her up against the wall by now. You suck on your lip, the guilt you had a moment ago is conveniently replaced with how turned on you are by her. The blood rushes you your neither regions. 

You beckon her forward with your finger, looking at her through your overgrown bangs, “Why don’t you hang out with us for a bit? Since you missed out on fucking that girl, why don’t you fuck me instead?” You arch your back and stretch, you can see that light flicker in her warm brown eyes. 

She drags her thumb slowly against her lips, she has a habit of doing that when she’s aroused, “I guess I can settle for you. You don’t mind sharing him, Eren?” You can feel his erect cock pulse against your inner leg, that’s a strong yes if you’ve ever felt one. He nods more than enough times to get the point across before handing you over to her. As you kiss her to keep your eye on him, he’s completely lost in ecstasy. When you kiss her, it’s not at all like you kiss him, it’s messy, unprecise and passionate. You use your body weight to push her to the mattress and grind against her still fully clothed. Kissing her has become second nature, you don’t worry about impressing her or about getting drool on your chin, you just let loose and it feels good. 

She has Eren grab the lube from the nightstand, and she lowers your pants just enough past your ass to press her gel coated finger into you. The cool sensation sends shivers up your spine and sends moans from your lips, “You really don’t waste any time, do you?” you articulate partially through your teeth, it does hurt a tad when her finger snakes deep inside of you too soon. Sometimes you think she forgets that you’re not a woman. 

“Come closer, Eren,” you call to him, he’s already stroking at himself though his khakis. If he’s half a turned on as you are right now, he must be bursting at the seams. 

“Can I watch instead, for now?” his eyes would have film behind them if they could, he’s soaking all this up. You and Hanji getting each other off must be hot as hell to him. His idols, naked, together? What more could a boy ask for? 

Perhaps Eren didn’t think he was going to get a show when he agreed to come back here with you, but you’re going to give one to him whether he asked for it or not. You’re a true showman, after all, a straight up exhibitionist when you feel like it. She pulls off her tank top and you grab a mouthful of her breasts while sliding your hand into her panties. She’s hot and dripping wet like you’d expect. Her fingers twist and turn inside of you until they hit the spot where it feels best, a shiver shoots up your spine, “fuck you,” you moan. She kisses at the slides of your gasping mouth, it feels really good but you want to make her feel good too.

With your fingers in her and hers in you, it feels like you’re more of a lesbian couple than boyfriend and girlfriend. Not that you’re complaining, it feels good, but you want more from her and you know she can and wants to give it to you. She seems to know what you want without you actually saying anything, 

“Give me a sec,” she whispers before she breaks apart from you to get something out of the dresser. You crawl over to Eren and kiss his chest, then his neck before bringing your mouths together. He’s dropped the tension in his body again and it’s pleasurable to kiss him. You take his throbbing cock in your hands, you want to take his virginity as much as he wants to give it to you, but he’s going to have to wait until Hanji has a go at you first. 

She grabs your hips and puts it up against you. Erens arms caress your back when she enters you, it burns in that familiar way, you curse into Eren’s shoulder as she raises your hips and slides into you. Your head goes light and your body burns as hot as embers. She’s damn good with a strap, better than most guys are with their own cocks. Most guys don’t make the effort to become good at fucking, but over the years she’s perfected her craft past what you could imagine was possible. 

Hers is also special in other ways, “Ah, fuck,” the rippling sensation shoots deep into you, your legs weaken and crumble underneath of you the instant she flicks the vibration on. It’s more to get her off than anything, but it does the trick for you too. You can hardly control your voice once she starts moving properly, on top of that Eren’s hand is wrapped around your cock. You meet his mouth with yours and cover it in sloppy wet kisses and restricted moans. She brings her palms down on hard on your ass, you cry out and cling onto Eren for any stability as she roughly fucks you at an ever increasing pace. It all feels so unbearably good, you’re not going to last much longer at this rate. Your vision goes black when you call her name and come into Eren’s eager palm, it’s at this exact second the phone on the nightstand rings. She quickly picks it up. 

“Zoe,” she says as she tries to catch her breath, you can’t do anything more than lay panting while sprawled across Eren’s chest. You hope you didn’t get any spooge on the sheets, you just watched those. 

“Woah,” she instantly sounds concerned, she runs her hands through her sweat soaked hair, “What do you mean you gave her two?” she gets up from the bed and rushes out of the room as far as the spiral cord will allow, it's pulled taught as you overhear her talking in a hushed but rushed tone from the hallway, “Shit, I had no idea that they were that strong. He told me they could knock out a bull, but shit, I thought he was joking. You know Pixis, he’s a fucking--,” she cuts herself off, probably for the better, “I’ll be there, I’m just getting my keys.”

She rushes back into the room and picks her clothes up off the floor, “turns out Nanaba is all fucked up on those new roofies from Pixis, what Mike is doing drugging his own 70-pound girlfriend is beyond me, but he wants me to drive her to the ER. It sounds like she had a seizure,” She jumps into her clothes with messy hair and smeared eye make up, she’s starting to look more irritated than worried, “I can’t believe those two, one of those pills would have been more than enough. I’ll kill both of them if she dies.” 

“Oh, shit,” the unexpected news banner wakes you up from your orgasm-induced crash instantly with distress as your heart sinks deep into your chest. Mike and Nanaba do a lot of drugs still, more than you’re comfortable with selling them with most days. You rub your tired eyes with your hands, whatever happened must be serious if they’re calling Hanji. 

“Don’t touch those pills till I find out what’s going on,” she orders as she hastily grabs her keys and leaves the apartment. Eren wraps his arms around you when you let out a heavy breath. 

“Are you ok?” Eren whispers lightly with concern. 

“I’m fine,” you nod, but it’s only partly true, you’re worried about them, but this has happened before, it’s probably nothing. You kiss his round little nose and he blushes when you speak, “I’m good enough to go again if that’s what you’re wondering.” You yawn, you’re a little tired, but you know you have enough energy for his, it’s not like he’s going to last long anyway. He freezes up again when you kiss him properly, you get a condom from the nightstand and slide it onto him. It’s a little tight on him but I will have to do. 

You fall back on the bed with your legs parted just enough for him to fit. He comes closer to you but pauses when he’s pressed up against your hole, “It’s ok,” you try to soothe him with your voice. You trace up his arms with the pads of your fingers, he’s locked his arms and he’s so far above you, you want him to be closer. You reach up and pull him down, he has no business being that far away. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says in a soft voice into your shoulder, “I couldn’t live with myself if I did.” 

“Silly boy,” you touch his hair affectionately, his hair is overgrown and begging to be pulled, but you hold off, “You’re not going to hurt me, Hanji just fucked me with the robo-dong XL 5000, I’m about as loose as an unattended seven-year-old kid in a Chuck-E-Cheese ball pit-” You instant regret saying that the second it leaves your mouth; the fucking pizza rat right now, really? It sounded better in your head, but only marginally so, you’d slap yourself in the face if you could. Soon as things threaten to get sentimental you always have to ruin it. You feel something wet roll down your chest, he’s crying? God, now you’ve gone at made him upset. 

“Sorry,” you curse at yourself, you have no idea what to say, you’re just going to end up saying something worse, “My mouth moves on its own sometimes-“ 

“Sorry,” he wipes away tears that escaped his shimmery eyes, you feel as though you could get lost in those things for hours. He’s laughing in a sad but goofy way, “You're just everything I thought you would be, and-d,” he sniffles, his overflowing passion and embarrassment makes your heart swell, “I’ve just wanted this for a long time, sorry for getting all emotional about you and about Chuck-E-Cheese.” 

“Geez, you’re such a gushy guy,” you kiss the top of his head, he’s too cute for his own good, you scoot you hips closer to him and tightly knot your legs around his back, “you won’t hurt me, but take it easy no rushing, I don’t want you pulling a muscle or something.” 

“Ok, I’ll try not to,” he wipes his face, he looks down between your legs to see what he’s doing. He slides in slowly, filling you up with the heated mass. He trembles and moans once he’s inside of you, you kiss the side of his gaping mouth, “move your hips,” you instruct him and he obeys you, his strong but uneven motions pull the air from your lungs, “good,” you try to control your breathing, you assure him, “just like that, Eren, it feels good.” You pull him close as you let pleasure take over your body. 

He thrusts into you slowly but with all his strength, he’s covered in sweat, and the room fills with his boyish moans and your panting. You claw at his back, you want to grope and touch him, his skin is so soft and warm you can hardly get enough of it. When he strikes you in just the right place your back arches into him and lewd sounds erupt from deep in your chest. The change of pace is nice. He feels so good that he can scarcely kiss you without running out of breath or losing focus, “Levi,” his heavy eye’s beckon you, he’s completely drunk on you, you’re glad you can do so much for him, he can only just speak coherently, “I don’t know if I can-“ he speeds up the movement in his hips, he’s beginning to fall over the edge, you can feel his untrained muscles going weak and his cock growing larger, “I think I’m going to-“ 

“Come in me,” you say between labored breaths, he nods and leans into you with everything he’s got. Of course, you didn’t mean it literally, the tiny popping sensation from inside you feels insignificant in the moment, but seconds after you realize exactly what that was. He involuntarily sinks his teeth hard into your shoulder to keep himself from crying out and expends the rest of his energy. You feel something hot shoot into you, it’s a completely unfamiliar sensation, but with each remaining trust you feel more and more fill you until it runs outside of your body. You freeze up for a moment before panic sets in. The condom must have broke.

“Ah-!” your head that was heavy with ecstasy becomes filled with trepidation, he must not be able to tell what’s happened “Eren, stop!” your voice is panicky, it takes him a moment to even hear you never mind stop, and by the time he pulls out the damage is already done. He looks just as horrified as you do at the sight, not only did he come in you but he came a lot. The vicscious white liquid runs out of you, onto your thighs and onto your freshly washed sheets. The condom isn’t on him, and it's not on the bed so it must be in you still. How disgusting. 

You swear and rush to your feet, your legs and hips are weaker than expected, you nearly topple to the ground before you make it half way across the room, “Are you clean?” you try to remain calm, but after witnessing the HIV/AIDS epidemic unfold and kill so many in the city not long ago, you have every right to be anxious. 

“Clean? I-“ he seems to have no idea what you’re asking of him, he’s in a state of shock about all of this. 

“No STDs, nothing like that? You’ve been tested, right?” You ask sternly and he shakes his head. God, this is turning into a nightmare.

“I’ve only slept with one person once, and he used a condom, I don’t do drugs, I can’t think of any way I could have contracted something,” he’s sobbing again, this time it’s not happy tears, he’s become an absolute wreck in a matter of seconds, “I didn’t realize it broke, I’m so sorry, Levi.” 

You read his eyes, he is desperate and scared, you have no reason to believe he’s lying to you but you still can’t shake the possibility that he might be unaware about contracting something. You sigh and rub your temples, you try to convince yourself that it’s going to be fine and some of the anxiety subsides, “Then it’s not the end of the world, I guess.” 

“I’m sorry, Levi,” he reaches out to you but stops midway, he pulls his hand back into his chest, “I would have stopped, had I known.”

You sigh tensely, “I know,” you look meekly at him before shutting the door of the bathroom. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you look terrible. You trace your fingers along where he bit you, your unblemished skin bears the deep imprint of a set of human teeth. He managed to draw blood too, you wonder what kind of strange impulse would possess him to do such a thing. You hope it doesn’t scar. 

In the shower, it’s unpleasant, but you manage to get the condom out of you. You’re about to throw it in the bin but you have a look at it first. It seems to have split right along the entire length, you noticed it was a little tight on him at the start, but it must have been defective for something this dramatic to happen. You throw it out, at least the cursed thing broke in you rather than in your girlfriend. You don’t know what you’d do if she accidentally got knocked up by you again, or worse some other guy. 

You go back to your bedroom to find Eren pulling the sheets off the bed with tear stained eyes, at least he’s smart in that respect, “I just wanted to clean up before I leave.”

You cross your arms in the doorway, “You don’t have to leave, you can crash here if you want,” you offer mostly out of obligation but even what happened you’re sill oddly attracted to him. His boyish looks, his passion and awkward cuteness, seems to have gotten a barb in you, “it’s the middle of the night, let Hanji give you a ride once she gets back.” 

“I’ve caused you enough trouble for one day,” he yawns, he’s been spent physically and mentally you can’t blame him for wanting to get back to his own bed. 

You get a piece of paper from beside the phone, which is off the hook, and write down your number, “If you haven’t been tested, you should go. I’m not saying I have anything, but it’s been two months since I’ve gone myself, you never really know. If you’ve never been,” you offer to try to encourage him, “I can go with you, if you want, It can be intimidating your first time.” 

“Thanks,” he says quietly before slipping it into his wallet and getting dressed. It’s like he didn’t even hear a word you said. He’s become gloomy and quiet, all life seems to be gone from him, it’s almost like he’s an entirely different person, “Can you call me when you get home? I want to make sure you get home safe.” You say and he only nods and leaves without saying anything further. You let out a sigh and lock the door. You flop on your bare mattress, you only get a moment to yourself until the phone rings. 

You groan and pick it up, “Hello?”

“Were you on the phone? I tried to call you a million times,” her voice rips loudly through the phone. You pull it away from your ear. 

“Sorry,” you press your face into the pillow, “I must have knocked it when I went into the nightstand, “Did something happen?” You look at the clock, it’s almost three, you would have thought she would have been home by now. 

“Levi,” she takes a deep breath and leaves a long nerve-wracking pause, “Nanaba is in a coma, they had to do it to stop the seizures, they stabilized her but part of her brain suffocated, they don’t know how much of her is left.” Your brain clicked off part way into her sentence, you don’t even know where or how to begin processing it. You can feel the tears well up in your throat, you cover your mouth, you feels as though you’re about to be sick. You’ve been close friends with the two of them since you moved here as a runaway, you know Mike would rather die than lose her. It would kill him. 

“And Mike, he, uh-,” she clears her throat, “he left the hospital suddenly, I’m here by myself. I don’t know where he is, he was in bad bad shape. I’m worried he’s going to hurt himself, would you be able to call around for me to try to find him and tell her friends that she’s here? I don’t think I can handle talking to another person today. I had to call her family, they’re driving here from Baltimore. I told them I’ll stay until they get here, they should be here in two hours. I can hardly keep my eyes open, Levi, I’m so tired,” she sounds like she’s on the verge of tears. You wish you could be there with her, to comfort her in any way you could, even if that just meant crying with her in the waiting room. 

“Yes, of course,” you try to keep your voice together for her sake, “I’ll call everyone, please take the train or a cab home, and try to get some rest in the meantime.” 

“I will, is Eren still there?” 

“No, he just left,” you reply. 

“Can you flush all those tablets from Pixis, even the ones I gave you? I don’t think I could handle seeing those things again.” 

“I will,” you assure her, “Call me if anything changes, ok?” 

“Ok,” the line goes dead. You shove your face hard into the pillow as a line beeps in your ear, how could this have happened? Mike and Nanaba were fine the other day. It’s not fair, none of this is fair. You put the phone back on the recover and flip open your personal phone book, you’re going to call every person in here from A to Z if it’s the last thing you do. You’re going to find Mike at any cost. 

The phone rings, your heart starts pounding, you pray to God it’s good news. You quickly pick it up, “Hanji?” 

There is a confused pause and a familiar voice, “No, it’s Eren.” 

“Oh,” you release the air in your lungs, it couldn’t have been more than eight minutes since he left, “you’re home already?” you’re baffled as to how he got back so fast, perhaps he’s calling you from a cellphone or car, but you didn’t see one on him.

“I didn’t want to say anything,” it sounds like he’s walking around, “but I live in the same building as you, in the basement. I didn’t want to creep you out if it counts for anything, I moved here a year before you did.” What an unexpected piece of information. 

“Oh,” you’re flustered over everything that’s happened, “I see, I’m glad you’re home safe then.” 

“Are you ok?” he asks quietly. He must be able to pick up on the distress in your voice even through the phone, “I’m sorry about earlier.” 

“No, no, it’s not that,” you say unconvincingly through coughs, you shove your fingernails into your calf and rake your flesh you distract your body away from wanting to cry, “I’m fine, something happened with a friend, I need to call a few people. I’m not mad at you, everything is just catching me by surprise today, it was an accident no need to feel bad. I’m just not good with surprises, I hate them a lot actually,” you bite your lips, “but I had a good time with you despite all that happened, we should hang out again, get a drink, talk on the phone or something. You have my number.” 

“Sure, I’ll let you go then,” his voice is soft but toneless, he’s completely crushed, “Good night.” 

“Night,” you managed to keep it together long enough, the second the line clicks you start crying uncontrollably. You didn’t think that it would be the last night you would talk to your new friend Eren and your old friend Nanaba again, but it was. 

END


	9. H

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What about her?

“What about her?” you whisper into his ear, “don’t tell me you like her more than me.” 

“I like her,” he runs his hands through the short par of your undercut, “but you were my first-“ he cuts himself off, “my first real crush, it’s hard to stop thinking about you.” A crush? How quaint. 

“Is that so?” you take his statement and roll with it, he’s so youthful and vulnerable you can’t help but tease him a little, your deep voice and washes over him, it turns him into something else, “You’ve probably been jerking off to me since you were a teenager, am I right?” he goes to kiss you but you tilt your head so his lips land on your neck, “A guy like you, I bet you’ve come so many times with your fingers in your ass screaming my name.” You could picture it, him in the bathroom in his parents place sitting on the floor against the bathtub with his hands between his legs. It’s a nice house, white picket fence, a SUV in the driveway and the smell of homemade bread. The cold tiles and porcelain feel nice against his burning skin as gets himself off to a picture of you in his head. 

“I have,” he says shamefully under his breath, “I’m disgusting right?” His response satisfies you, you were right, you push him to the bed and spread his clothed legs, he’s hard as expected. 

“I don’t know if disgusting is the right word, more like pathetic,” you rock gently against him, pressing your heat together, he arches into you, it’s getting him off, “horny, or terribly misguided. You think about me when you’re with other guys or girls?”

“I’ve-.” he turns away, the temperature of his body skyrockets and rouge fills his face, “only slept with one other guy and just once, and you were all that I could think about the whole time.” The topic turns him on like a switch, his legs go weak and he trembles at your every touch. You grind against him harder to pull sounds out of him. 

“Tell me about that,” you purr to him, you want to know every detail. 

“Well,” he easily recalls it, you can tell he’s thought a lot about it since then, it’s as if he’s reliving it when he speaks, “I only knew about him from a distance, he didn’t even know I existed until that night. I was terrified about being rejected, I was so scared to talk to him, but-,” his voice cuts off when you sink your hands into his briefs, he’s beyond hard, and you decide you’re going to do him a favour and help him out. 

“What changed your mind,” you slide down his waistband, letting his cock fall to his stomach, he’s huge, probably too big to put into your mouth but the perfect size to wrap your hands around, “about talking to him?” 

“He talked to me,” he pauses to rephrase, he grips on your working arm and moans, “well sort of, I pissed him off accidentally. I wanted to cry, I was so upset, I thought ‘this is it, I’ve ruined that small chance I’ve had with him’. He embarrassed me in front of everyone, called me a few choice words, but,” he moans and runs his hands through his hair, you get the feeling he could come just thinking about it, you speed up the motion with your hand, “he was so hot, he could shit on me and I’d thank him.” He kind of sounds like kind of a dick to you. You grab the lube from the nightstand and put some in your hand. 

“We were on the dance floor, I was drunk and dancing like a slut for him and I guess he got the message. He suddenly pulled me into this room and dropped my pants,” he continues, he can hardly stay still, he greedily ruts into your hand, you gently bite at his neck wishing you were tall enough to do the same to his mouth, “my heart was beating so fast, I thought maybe I was having a panic attack or a heart attack, but when he kissed me it all went away. I didn’t want to tell him I’d never done it before, he was so cool, and I was this lame under-aged kid who sneaks into bars likes Star Wars and plays chess for fun. He was really rough with me,” you press your finger against his hole, his whole body reacts to the touch. 

“He was so big, I felt as if I was going to pass out, it hurt so much for the first few minutes, I buried my face into the couch so he couldn’t tell I was crying,” that suddenly got a whole lot less romantic, you wonder what kind of jerk would do such a thing. It seems Eren’s attraction to this guy isn’t something you can understand, you can tell how much he adores him, it’s almost like he’s under a trance, “I was so tight because I was so nervous, but soon as it loosened up it felt really good. Hearing him moan, God,” your finger inside him has him reeling with pleasure, it seems talking about this gets him off just as much as your hands do, “I’d do anything to hear that sound for the rest of my life.” He stops talking and looks at you, you can feel how much he wants you. His deep eyes call to you before his voice does. You come up and kiss him, this time is different. He doesn’t hold back and returns the kiss as if his life depended on it. 

“Do you want to come?” you look him in the eye and he nods. You twist your fingers inside him and jerk him as fast and as hard as your hand will allow. He tightens around your fingers, pulling you deeper into him as he moves his hips and cries out for you, you can tell you’re doing something right. He comes hot and heavy into your hand and onto his chest, it seems he’s been holding it back for a while. He can’t restrain his moans and body in the slightest, near the end you almost felt like he was trying to fight you off. It’s no surprise that he’s nearly comatose after expending all his energy. You kiss his forehead before pulling the sheet over him, he’s sleeping like a baby already. Goes to show that you can never underestimate the power of a good hand-job. 

In the washroom, you turn on the tap and wash your hands thoroughly. As much as you enjoy sex most days, body fluids aren’t exactly your favourite thing in the world. With clean hands, you touch your skin. It’s still warm and dewy with sweat, but you’re only a little hard, it will probably go away on its own. Right now, you just want to wash up and get into bed with him. A bath out be nice, you put the stopper in the drain and crank up the hot water. Heck, why not put some bubbles in. 

Back in the bedroom, he’s sitting up and stretching. He smiles the second you walk through the door, looks like you put him in an even better mood than before.   
“Sorry about the mess,” he blushes, “I know you hate that kind of stuff.”   
“Don’t worry about it,” you lean in the doorway and admire him.   
“How are you?” he speaks quickly, “did you want me to, you know.”   
You can easily tell what he is alluding too, “I’m good, thanks though. You want to take a bath?” 

You let the water run for a little too long, by the time the two of you get into your oversized clawfoot tub the bubbly water rolls over the side like a foamy waterfall. Your laughter echoes hollowly in the tiled room as your legs and his find a comfortable compromise in the centre of the tub. 

For a while, you tilt your head back and enjoy the silence and comfort only a bath could bring. The dripping from the tap that normally annoys you, sounds like music to your ears. The warm air in the room make it all so spa-like, you could imagine that you’re somewhere nicer than your own dump of an apartment. 

“Say,” Eren speaks quietly as he picks up a handful of pink toned bubbles and sets them on your knee, “How’d you know about the uh, jerking off thing?” 

You partially laugh and look down before you look up at him through your brow, “I watch you through your bedroom window every night,” you tease him, but you see his adams apple bob in his throat paired with the look in his eye’s he can’t tell you’re just bugging him. It seems like he can never take a joke, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding, I didn’t know until you told me,” you hang your arm over the side of the tub and prop your head up. 

“Oh,” he clears his throat and blinks a few times, “well, that’s kind of embarrassing.” He sinks below the baths foamy surface before popping up again with drenched bubbly hair.

“I wouldn’t say that,” you admire the bubble fort he’s built on your knee, “I think it’s hot, probably made it feel extra good when I got you off, right? It totally turns me on when guys want me that bad, makes me feel young again.” 

“You are young, and besides,” Eren adds more bubbles to your knee causing them to slide back into the tub, “how do you say stuff like that with a straight face?” 

“Well, first,” you shake your body out before relaxing into your normal expression and posture, “you gotta be dead-pan all the time like this,” you point to your face, which surly is serving up some ‘don’t talk to me, peasant’ vibes, “and you got to have a dirty mind or dirty-talk, why don’t you try?” 

“Dirty-talking? Me?” he speaks bashfully as his ears turn red again, “I don’t think I’m good at that kind of stuff.” He’s probably right, he seems like a Catholic school boy, but who knows, he did get off telling you one of his slut-tales earlier. 

“Common’,” you kick lightly at him until he squirms and laughs, “I know you got it in you.” 

“Fine, fine, just stop kicking me,” he speaks while giggling, “What do you want me to say?” 

You shrug and try to think up something, he’s already given you enough material to work with, you try to make it easy for him, “tell me how good it felt to be with me and don’t forget to talk about my striking good looks.” Frankly, you could use the ego boost. You watch him eagerly. 

He laughs, “Um, ok, um,” he looks off into space for a while trying to think of something to say, when he speaks he couldn’t seduce a cat in heat, “It felt really good when you jerked me off.” Sentence end. He sounded like a straight up telemarketer. You didn’t think it was possible to be that bad at dirty talking. 

You try to keep a straight face, he did try after all, but that just sounded so weird, you look down to the bubbles and try to keep it together since you encouraged him. But you can’t help but burst out laughing, “Sorry,” you wipe the tears out of your eyes, “that was just so, bad, like, you sounded like a salesman who hates his job, I don’t-“ he throws bubbles at you as you laugh at him. 

“I told you I’m no good,” he’s laughing at himself. 

“Ok, ok,” you speak as you try to kill your laughter, “think of it this way,” you lean in forwards to him and turn on your bedroom voice, perhaps you need to set the mood a little in order to pull it out of him, “talk to me as if you want to fuck me with your voice, turn me on.” 

“Ok,” he takes a deep breath in, his playful voice fades away, “I wanted you so bad, ever since I saw you on TV. I’m not into guys, but you- you’re different when you kissed me I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things I wanted you to do to me, But-” 

Now that’s better, you drag your fingers on his calf under the water and motion for him to go on, “I,” he looks down at the water's surface, he sighs and rubs his neck his voice becomes apprehensive, “I just really wanted you to remember me, like I remember you, but you don’t remember me at all, do you?” 

You’re beyond confused, you’ve never met him until this night, at least that you can recall. You search his wet eyes for any previous familiarity, but you come up short-handed, “Should I?” 

“I don’t know,” he pulls his head into his knees. He’s upset, it’s obvious that you mean a lot to him, but it’s unclear exactly as to why. You take a slow breath in and a short breath out. You’ve grown to like this dweeb more than you would like to admit, and you’d hate to get off on the wrong foot, for the second time. 

“Are you free tomorrow?” You ask him, seemingly out of the blue. He gives you a surprised look before nodding, “Well,” you smile softly, you’re not usually so forthcoming when it comes to asking others out, but you want this to work “stay the night, and we’ll make it a date. I want to get to know you, as you are now.” 

His surprise relaxes into a smile, he nods energetically “I’d like that, I really would.” 

“Good, you’re stuck with me until I say otherwise,” you want this to go somewhere and not get confused with the past, you want nothing more than to start fresh with him. You have a good feeling about the future, and you can’t wait to share it all with him.

 

END


End file.
